Don't Shmuck it Up
by Frenchiestfries
Summary: "How come my bacon tastes like coffee?" Albus, Rose, Evelyn and Scorpius enjoy their fun and games at school (bickering, flirting, and causing general mayhem with their friends), without a thought to what might be brewing beyond the realm of Hogwarts safety.
1. Badges

**Hello there! I'm putting this up on this site too (it's already on under the penname 'snitches_witches' -hope that isn't a problem, if so I'll take it down from here). Read, enjoy and review! This took us (it's a cowrite) a lot of time to write and we appreciate feedback :)  
**

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To Albus, the Great Hall seemed far too noisy that morning. He fumbled with the handle of his mug as he poured himself coffee, slopping some over the rim and onto a platter of bacon. He didn't understand how anyone had the energy to talk at the moment; he, for one, was exhausted from the minimal amount of sleep he'd gotten due to the Start-of-Term party. Albus rubbed his eyes sleepily, yawning as he poured some cereal for himself and Scorpius, who had not yet arrived.

Soon, the familiar flapping sound of dozens of wings filled the air, and owls of all colors and sizes swooped in to begin their search for their respective owners, laden with packages and letters from home. He was scanning the cloudy ceiling for the family owl when Scorpius settled into the seat beside him, elbowing his friend in the side by way of morning greeting.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," said Albus, grinning.

Scorpius smirked at him, shoveling cornflakes into his mouth. "You too, Prince Charming," he said, a bit of milk dribbling down his chin.

"See Rose yet?" said Al, raising his eyebrows playfully as an enormous gray owl landed with a flump in front of him, _The Daily Prophet_ tied to its leg. He paid the owl a Knut and removed it of its burden as it helped itself to Scorpius' cornflakes.

The blonde boy shooed it away, ignoring his friend's comment. He'd been denying it for years, but Al had always known that his best friend had a thing for his cousin.

"Can I see that for a second?" Scorpius said, indicating the newspaper beside his plate.

Albus nodded vaguely, wondering what classes had in store for him this year. It seemed that the summer had wiped his brain completely clear; no matter how he searched his memory, he couldn't seem to recall anything he'd learned last year. He knew that wasn't a good sign—after all, with OWLs approaching in June—

"Hey, Al. Look at this." Scorpius nudged him, pointing at an article on the front page of the newspaper.

** MLF Strikes Again**

**MLF, otherwise known as the Magical Liberation Front, broke into the Ministry again last night, and attempted to burn and destroy files containing Classified Ministry of Magic information. The group is composed of dangerous anarchic figures that have made it their mission to sabotage our government in every possible way. Several spies are now under cover amongst their ranks in the hope — _read more on page 2A._  
**

Al glanced at his friend uneasily—both of their fathers worked at the Ministry, and if anything had happened—he was suddenly reminded of the first of September, when Harry Potter had not (for the first time) come to the station to see him off. He'd said it was for work.

Before either of them had said so much as a word on the subject, sixth-year Gemma Farley showed up behind them, two badges gleaming on her chest. "Hey, fellow Slytherins! What's crackalackin'?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Listen, tryouts are next Friday—be there, be square if you want a spot. 'Cause I'm captain, beyotches!" She snapped her fingers (nails painted bright green and silver) and did a little dance in place. "I know you're jealous of my badg_es_. Yeah, that's _plural_, as in Prefect _and _Quidditch Captain. Now, now, no need to hold back tears."

"Yeah, yeah, congratulations. I can't believe Boris Porter didn't get the badge—at least _he_ wasn't so obnoxious," said Scorpius, rolling his eyes at her.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Meeester Maaalfoy."

"Oh, look, your fan-club is approaching."

James Potter, Albus' older brother, was indeed heading their way from across the Great Hall. He was so obvious.

Al was embarrassed at the thought of being related to such an idiot; he snatched up the newspaper and attempted to hide behind it.

It wasn't long before the seventh-year Gryffindor had reached them, and he lost no time in cracking an enormous fake yawn, accompanied by a stretch that conveniently deposited his arm around Gemma's shoulders. "Hey, Gem. It's been a while," he said with a smug grin.

She gave him a repulsed look, shrugging off his arm. "Uno: You're a Gryffindor. Dos: We're rival Captains now. Tres: I have a boyfriend. PS: your pits stink." And she stalked off, leaving a deflated James in her wake.

Awkward silence.

"How come my bacon tastes like coffee?" said Scorpius suddenly, chewing slowly.

"She has a boyfriend?" James asked no one in particular.

"I mean, it does taste like bacon, except it has a slight coffee-ish tint to it, you know?"

"She has a _boyfriend?_"

"Hey, Al, you gotta try this. It's disgusting."

"_SHE'S GOT A BOYFRIEND? _How come nobody _tells_ me these things?"

"No, seriously—it's nasty."

Albus was thankful when the new Head of Slytherin house, Professor Gwen Allen, called for her students' attention so that they could receive their timetables. Albus quickly stood up and joined the swarm of students heading towards her.

** X**

The two boys took their usual spot at the back of the classroom, settling themselves on the familiar benches and drawing out their various potion ingredients. It was an ideal workspace because, for one thing, they were situated directly behind Rose Weasley (easily the best of the class off whom they could occasionally cheat), it was also close to the door (after two hours, they wanted to escape as fast as possible). It also wasn't in Professor Bow's direct line of sight.

The pair had been discussing schedules ("look at that—free period on Thursday mornings!") when he entered, smiling around at his students. Several audible sighs echoed around the dark dungeon at this, which irritated many of the boys.

"God, I wish those girls would stop fawning over him all the time. What's so special about that old guy anyway?" asked Scorpius, clearly annoyed that he didn't get the same reaction when _he_ cracked a smile.

"Well, he _is_ kind of good-looking," Albus whispered back behind his hand.

"Debatable."

Rose whipped around, glaring at them. « Can you talk any louder ? I'd much rather hear your immature discussions about our teacher's physique than his instructions. Just listen to the instructions for once. »

Albus gave a false cough that sounded a lot like "_hypocrite_"

"What was that? You little—"

Professor Bow cleared his throat at the front of the room. "Miss Weasley. If you would be so kind as to pay attention."

Rose flushed a deep red (a tendency inherited from her father), and turned slowly around to face the front of the classroom, shock and shame etched upon her face.

The boys doubled over in their chairs with silent laughter, to which the redhead responded by giving them the finger behind her back. By the end of the two hours, however, she'd regained her superior attitude by presenting a perfect vial of Pepper-Up Potion, whereas Albus' smelt strongly of burnt hair, and Scorpius' had striking resemblance to tar.

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**Liked it, hated it? Any advice? Want more? ****This took us (it's a cowrite) a lot of time to write and we appreciate feedback :)**

**~~snitches_witches**


	2. Elephant

**Hu-llo again dear reader! ENJOY! This was written for you ;)  
**

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Rose squirmed on the hard metal bench of the stands, drawing her coat closer around her. She hated cold mornings like this. Why, then, was she sitting outside at the crack of dawn, watching Gryffindor hopefuls fly around in circles on cleaning implements? _Because, _she thought bitterly,_ I am too damn nice. _James had said he wanted her to come for fun, but she wasn't sure that was the sole reason.

Through the morning fog, she could just make out a huddle of people near the center of the pitch, watching a particularly small figure dart around in the air, the quaffle tucked under an arm.

Unattached to their owners, voices sounded oddly loud. Someone down on the grass called, "Go Emilia-Rae!" and then, "she should be on the team, Potter!"

High in the air, Emilia-Rae raced towards the center goal post for her final shot, looking (as far as Rose could tell through her battered binoculars and the clearing mist) as though she was having the time of her life. She leaned backward for extra momentum, drew back her arm, Quaffle in hand and ready to score, shot her old Twigspark71 faster, and then—swerved sharply to the left, away from a momentarily confused Hans Wolf and towards the unguarded goal post. For real, this time (Rose refocused her lens) Emilia-Rae flung the Quaffle spinning through the air, sending it perfectly through the enormous brass circle before Hans even had time to register his defeat.

"And it looks like we've found our final Chaser!" said James, motioning her over as she landed beside him. His comment issued several disappointed groans form the small crowd, who shouldered their brooms and wandered away, grumbling. Only a small number stayed behind, looking quite pleased with themselves form making the team.

Rose, relieved that it was finished, made her way over the barrier and across the field as James began to ramble to his new teammates. He tended to talk a lot when he was nervous or excited. His monologue grew louder and louder as she drew nearer.

"….congratulations, Emilia-Rae. Warshaw, is it? Welcome to the team—speaking of which—this is my friend Alex, whom you may recognize as last year's Beater; and then we have Adam, the other Beater;" he indicated the tall brown-haired boy beside him, "and the Newbies… um, Shavani Pandey (did I say it right?), Ellie something—no wait, I know this—er, Ellie Klies? Yes, there we go. Hans Wolf, our fabulous new Keeper, nice save earlier, by the way…" he continued in this vein for quite some time, until Rose lost her patience and cleared her throat from behind him.

James whipped around, apparently startled. "Oh, it's you, Rose." He held up a finger, indicating for her to wait, and turned back to the team. "Just a second, guys. I'll be right back." He then steered a confused Rose away from the group across the pitch to the changing rooms.

She had never been there before; she looked around with mild curiosity at the gray, peeling paint on the walls, which were quite barren apart from a few lockers, a scratched mirror, and a plastic curtain (which probably concealed the entrance to the showers, judging by the constant dripping sound issuing from behind it). It reeked of stale sweat and hormones, and Rose noted several pairs of once-white socks lurking in corners.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, focusing instead on her cousin's worried face and wondering why he wanted to talk to her _here_, of all places.

James ran a hand through his messy black hair, and opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and began to pace. Rose waited expectantly, watching as he walked back and forth in front of her, pinching the bridge of his nose and ruffling his hair.

"Well? Spit it out, then." She wanted to hurry, as breakfast would be over soon.

He stopped pacing, but didn't say anything for a moment. Eventually, he said to the floor, "There's this girl."

"You don't say," Rose interjected sarcastically.

"Cut it out. I'm not _that _obvious."

"You're that obvious. Continue."

James sniffed and slid dejectedly down the wall beside him to sit on the floor. He turned his big amber eyes up at her, looking miserable and helpless despite his otherwise manly appearance. "She—she has a _boyfriend_, Rosie." He looked on the verge of tears.

Rose, having absolutely no idea what to do, took a few hesitant steps toward him and patted him awkwardly on the top of the head.

He sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm, leaving a trail of slimy boogers across his sleeve. "I thought she was too—too crazy and weird for a-anyone other than m-me! I mean, I never actually had—had the nerve to ask her out, but that was because," he hiccoughed, "that was because she never, ever would have said yes! Have you seen the way she treats me? I try so hard!" and he buried his face in his arms theatrically as Rose sat down carefully beside him, brushing aside an enormous hairball with her shoe.

James always seemed so put together—she couldn't believe something as insignificant as Gemma Farley's relationship status could have such an impact on him. Hadn't she ever had a boyfriend before? And why would _James Potter_, the macho star Quidditch player, care so much about _this_ when he hardly shrugged a shoulder over his own broken leg? Rose didn't know what to think.

"Aw, I'm sorry, dude. What can I do to help?" _AKA what the heck am I doing here?_ thought Rose.

His head snapped up, and his expression changed dramatically from weepy to determined. "That's right." He cleared his throat importantly. "Rose Weasley, I need you to go on a mission for me. Mission title: Dispose of Gemma's Boyfriend." He swiped his hand through the empty air as he said it, as if presenting this heading in flashing neon lights.

Rose couldn't hold back a snort.

"But we need a codename." He thought for a moment, comically stroking an invisible goatee. "Elephant!"

Rose raised an eyebrow. "Elephant?"

He nodded vigorously and scrambled to his feet. "You find out who it is, and when I see an opportunity to eradicate, I'll be all like 'Elephant!' and no one will know what I'm talking about, they'll just think I'm being myself, but you'll be able to—" He made a violent squashing movement in midair with an evil grin.

"And no one will suspect a thing."

"Exactly. I expect progress reports every evening at dinner. Rodger that?"

"Sure, _Elephant Man_. I'll do everything I can." She saluted him, smirking and getting to her feet.

James marched over to a mirror to inspect his face. Satisfied, he strode over to the door and exited to resume his captain duties.

Speaking of duties… Rose suddenly remembered that she had a Prefect meeting with Professor McGonagall that morning at ten o'clock (_damn it,_ _I won't have time for breakfast!_) She knew from experience that this particular teacher did not appreciate tardiness; Rose's panic started to build as she confirmed by her watch that it was 9:54.

** X**

Fifteen minutes later, Rose found herself panting outside the Headmistress' office, clutching a piece of paper bearing the password and trying to fasten her pin onto her blue jumper.

"Relinquere," Rose wheezed to the gargoyle, which nodded and stepped aside to reveal a staircase. When she finally entered the crowded room, it was to find McGonagall already in mid-lecture.

"…organize the decorations with Hagrid—but _do_ help him with the trees this year, after all, as much as he doesn't like to admit it, he's getting rather old." She gave Rose a cold look as the girl took her seat, but didn't reprimand her. "And don't get too enthusiastic with the mistletoe this year. Now, for Saint Valentine's Day: be sure to make extra patrols that night, but if you do come across anyone, don't be too harsh with them. _Absolutely_ no Cupid Dwarves or heart-shaped pink confetti, and if I get any news of exhibitionist behavior like we had last year… Anyway, as far as April Fool's day goes, you know the routine, and—"

She looked around at the eighteen students before her, surveying their drowsy faces and blank expressions. Professor McGonagall suddenly banged her walking stick on the table sharply, making everyone jump.

"None of you are paying any attention to my instructions, so I'll just give you this, and you can sort it all out yourselves." She opened a drawer of her desk and rummaged around inside it for a minute, finally extracting an enormous stack of parchment. "This file contains all of your directions for the year on a week-by-week schedule. Mr. Huttner, if you please."

Gordon Huttner, the Head Boy, stood up to receive the massive mound of paper. "Erm, Professor? If you don't mind me asking, why do we need the whole year's schedule _now_? Aren't we going to have more Prefect meetings?"

She gave him a calculating look before sinking into her chair. "Simply a precaution, as it is, you never know what might happen…"

As Gordon returned to his seat (immediately passing the file to the Head Girl), McGonagall's eyes passed from student to student bearing an expression Rose couldn't quite place. The old woman pressed the tips of her fingers together as she continued.

"I give you my best wishes for the remainder of the year. Work hard, don't forget your duties, and know that I trust you. Just remember, if you're ever in need, everything is in the file." Then she stood and left the office without another word.

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**Soo... Who's your favorite character so far? You might see more of him/her if you give us an idea of who you guys prefer! **

**Oh, and we apologize for making James a little whiny in this chapter... we wanted to get across that he had actual feelings, because most of time he will be acting a little macho... *boys!*...but he isn't usually this mushy (except when it comes to Gemma ^^')!**


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